


Give Your Dreams the Wings To Fly

by TsunamiStarz



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, George needs hugs, M/M, Slow Burn, The RotG AU nobody asked for but it’s nearing Christmas so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27535441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsunamiStarz/pseuds/TsunamiStarz
Summary: Everybody believes in Dream. From the first nap a newborn takes, they meet the smiley-mask-wearing Guardian who brings them serenity and safety in their sleep. But there’s one boy that managed to slip through his fingers for 20 years, without Dream knowing. So, when the Guardian meets the first person to not be able to see him, he is instantly determined to bring this nonbeliever to the haven of dreams, no matter what extents he has to take.~~~”Believe in what you feel inside, and give your dreams the wings to fly!” Dream’s heart fluttered, flurries of euphoria threatening to twirl into a storm in his stomach as George’s eyes drifted over Dream’s position in the poster-ridden bedroom. The hazel brown orbs retreated back to the laptop on his desk, and the euphoria quickly faded into anguish. “You have everything you need, if you just believe!”—This strange crossover is inspired by the credits song of The Polar Express, and Rise of the Guardians.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 66





	Give Your Dreams the Wings To Fly

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what sparked me to do this but here we are.

George never felt the need to celebrate any holidays. What about being orphaned as a child and being adopted into a hollow family was worthy of being celebrated? Nothing. So that’s exactly what he celebrated; nothing. He stared blankly at the wall on Easter. Watched dressed-up kids run by on Halloween with tired eyes. Bawled in his bed on his birthday. Shivered by the quiet fire on Christmas. Resented the world on New Years Day. And that cycle repeated every year. Nothing new came along. His adopted parents were always at work, his adopted sister basically moved from boyfriend to boyfriend, always 'staying the night' at their houses and only coming home for dinner, where his mom would readily feed her. She fed George, too, though. That's what hurt him the most. His adoptive parents weren't even that bad; they actually cared for him. But they left early in the morning, leaving a ready-made breakfast in the kitchen for him and his sister, and came home late, probably around eleven. If he was lucky, they were let off work early and would come home around nine. They made sure the fridge and pantry were stocked, and paid for George's college fees, and let him still live in their house. He had a better set life than most, yet it didn't feel that way. He spent most free days sulking in his room. He felt broken and simultaneously selfish for feeling as if he were taking his life for granted. He just felt... alone. That's what it boiled down to. He was alone, and scared that, one day, this neatness he'd grown accustomed to will vanish, and then he'd be given much more serious things to complain about than just being alone.

These fears carried into his sleep. A series of imaginary events plagued by the perils of his dayborn life; dreams, they were called. At least, that’s what he was told. Though he doubted his fell under the same category as those described in the textbook definition. They differed greatly, the dreams described by his few friends he’d had over the years proving a stark contrast to his; utopian scenes of magic and wonder versus unfiltered embodiments of your most tragic fears. George often wondered what he did to deserve being a “unique” individual, whose dreams were tainted with pure darkness. Never had he recalled having a pleasant sleeping experience, often being visited by a dark ghost. He called himself Pitch. George grew used to seeing the dark figure appear in the corner of his room every night, occasionally dragging the ghost into conversations when his preservation of life was slim. But the ghost listened, humorously enough. The ghost was one of the few people—was he a person? A spirit? An amalgamation of George’s imagination and loss of sanity?—who actually understood George’s emotions and everyday worries, and he’d come to value that. Maybe, at first, George responded as any usual human would at the sight of a dark ghost—hide under his blankets and pray to any heavens above that it was just his mind playing tricks on him—but he soon grew so used to seeing him that he just stopped caring. Their conversations (if they could be called conversations. It was just George rambling and the ghost nodding) would last far into the night and early morning, bringing George to the brink of extreme exhaustion, leaving him in a panicked state of not wanting to sleep and not being capable of remaining awake. The ghost would wish him goodnight with an empty promise of blessing him with good dreams. After the first few nights of receiving said empty promise, he came to the conclusion that either his fears were too strong to let him have normal dreams, or the ghost never stuck to his promise. But he didn’t hold Pitch to his word; he wasn’t that stupid as to trust a dark spirit guy and his word. George still didn’t know if he was real. But considering he’d heard stories and tales of sightings of a sleigh being led by headstrong, flying deer breaking the dark silence of Christmas Eve with the cheery jingles of golden bells, he’d be willing to believe the ghost was more than a fragment of his imagination. George had heard other holiday stories as well. A towering bunny, wielding a hand-carved boomerang, hiding eggs on Easter. A hummingbird-esque fairy collecting the lost teeth of children and replacing them with coins (that one especially disturbed George). A regular humanoid boy with a large, hooklike stick, bringing the snow days of the winter season.

But there was one tale that he heard more frequently than the others. Tales of a man, bearing a green cloak and a circular, porcelain mask. The mask, with a simple smiley face design, covers his entire face, and the hood of his cloak covering the rest of his head, yet a small fluff of blond hair peeks out over the mask. This description repeated, from individuals all over the world. He went by the name of Dream, funny enough, the Guardian of Dreams, bringing children and adults alike serenity and safety in their sleep. What George didn’t understand was why he’d never seen this “Guardian of Dreams”. Sure, he understood why he never saw the Guardians of the holidays he never celebrated, but why, of all of them, had he never met this ‘Dream’? And why was he seemingly the only person to have seen Pitch?

Those questions may never be answered, and George was fine with that. He settled with an underlying hatred at the so-called Guardian of Dreams, wondering what he had done to not be protected in his sleep from his everyday troubles. The truth is, he had done nothing wrong. Yet he didn’t know that.

—

_The heart of the North Pole, one of the coldest places on the planet, and the center of the creation of magic and the Guardians themselves. Oh, and it was also the workshop of one of the most popular Guardians of them all; North, Leader of the Guardians of Childhood, and widely known to man as Father Christmas. He and his elven warriors worked hard, day and night, to provide the children of the world with joyful reminders that the magic and wonder of youth and belief still lived. One might argue that he, alone, is the reason the children still believe in the Guardians, but truthfully, it is all one group effort between the four of them-_

“ _Four_ of them?! Excuse me?” Jack interrupted incredulously. A scowl marked the young Guardian’s face at the error in the book, flurries of snow fluttering around him at the spike of distaste in his mood.

“Oh sorry! I must’ve missed that one. Let me edit it, one moment,” Tooth quickly fluttered over to the many of shelves lining the walls of North’s workshop, searching for a new vial of ink. Toy after toy lined each shelf, broken up by an occasional book and cookie jar. “North… you really need to have someone organize these…” She muttered quietly, zipping from shelf to shelf sporadically. North never shifted his gaze off his ice-carving, only huffing in annoyance. “We’re making toys every day of the year, you really think we have the time to organize shelves?”

“Just make a toy to organize the shelves for ya’,” Bunny piped up from where he sat on the floor, delicately carving a new design into his boomerang with his claws. North temporarily broke his focus on the ice to send a glare at the back of Bunny’s head, which went unnoticed by the Easter Guardian. With Tooth still on the search, Dream shook his head with a mild, soft chuckle, and walked from the quiet corner in which he’d stood, up to the book that lay lonely on the floor. He waved his hand in the air a few times before materializing a sharp, peacock feather and a small plate of thick squid ink. “Here, Tooth,” He called quietly. Said Guardian stopped abruptly in her search and looked over at the green-clad, and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Dream!”

Jack crossed his arms with an eye roll, which did not go unnoticed by the Guardian of Dreams. “Always have to do things extravagantly, don’t you, Dream?” He said, with a nod at the long peacock feather in Tooth’s hands as she corrected the cursive writing in the book.

“Well, dreams are extravagant, aren’t they?” Dream naturally smirked, despite knowing Jack wouldn’t be able to see it due to his face being covered. Jack only rolled his eyes again and shifted his gaze away from the older Guardian.

“I rest my case,”

“Okay,” Tooth cleared her throat. “It’s fixed!”

- _but truthfully, it is all one group effort between the five of them, the combination of their magicks creating a beacon of light and hope for those young and old. The serene utopias of dreams, the surprise of finding a coin in place of a tooth in the morning, the thrill of the hunt on Easter afternoons, the wonder of Snow Days, and the excitement of finding presents under the Christmas tree join forces to reignite awe and unfiltered joy, new and old. And without knowing it, believers across the world join forces to return the favor in the form of strengthening the Guardians and their powers, allowing the cycle to repeat. And the cycle will continue to repeat as long_ _as one believer remains._

_The science behind the belief turning into power is a mystery to never be solved by even the most dedicated studies, because there simply is no need to answer it. Childhood isn’t some hypothesis to be solved, it is necessary to life, therefore it becomes a mutual benefit between children and Guardians; Magic turns into enhanced vital years of life, and those years of belief turns into strengthening of the magic to allow the process to repeat itself for the same individuals and new generations._

_Adults may have grown out of some childhood holiday traditions, but the Guardians still manage to protect them as well, through their children and their memories. Through seeing their_ _children’s joy, memories are sparked anew, providing powerful boosts of energy to the balance of the magic. And some Guardians even actively have adult believers as well, such as Dream, the Guardian of Dreams._

A small snicker broke from Jack.

_No adult can deny their visions and experiences of dreams, therefore leading to every individual on the planet being believers of the mysterious Guardian, making him the most powerful of them all, the extravagance of dreams bleeding into his magic, allowing him to lead every individual’s dreams more vividly than the last, and allowing him to renew each belief with every passing day._

It was Dream’s turn to snicker at the complete deadpan expression on Jack’s face; as if he hadn’t known of the extent of Dream’s power before.

_But despite how powerful the maskridden Guardian is, he wouldn’t be able to maintain the power of the magic of the Guardians without the other four. After all, the Man of the Moon chose the existing Guardians for a reason. They maintain the balance of power, and bring peace to the world, and they do it together._

A small round of applause broke from the four Guardians in Tooth’s audience.

“A bit cheesy towards the end, but I like it,”

Bunny earned a glare from Tooth, but she schooled it away swiftly, replacing it with a meager grin and slightly ruffled feathers.

“I thought it was great, Tooth,” Dream offered, and he received a thankful nod in return.

“Okay,” Jack said, turning to the Guardian whose focus on ice had barely been broken this entire encounter. “Great story, but what’s the actual reason you called us here, North? Because I love me a good book, but is one so important that you assembled the Guardians here?”

North sighed, and pushed his chair away from the table, setting his things down before shaking his head. “You are true, there is another reason I called you here, bigger than Tooth’s novel,” He stood up, and the four other Guardians fell quiet, an uncharacteristic tone of seriousness in North’s voice. “I have received a… cryptic sign, from Man in Moon,”

Tooth’s wings fluttered open with underlying excitement. “A new Guardian being called?”

North shook his head, denying her excitement and quickly shutting it down. “No. No new Guardian call. A warning,”

As if summoned by the mention of his sign, a bright ray of moonlight poured through the skylight like a waterfall, flowing through the workshop and reflecting off of every surface, landing upon the globe in the center. The huge array of glowing dots, covering the surface like a massive flurry of fireflies, went dark, a rush of cold wind flowing through the space despite no windows being opened. And this time, the wind wasn’t a trick of Jack’s.

The moonlight danced and swirled until it formed into the shape of two people, one of which was dreadfully familiar. The dark, monochrome color scheme, the towering figure, the undeniable pointy chin-

“Pitch,” Jack snarled, the flurries of snow starting up again at the sight of the one true threat of the Guardians.

North nodded solemnly at this, as the moonlight shifted and retreated its magical display, the glow of believers returning to the globe. “Pitch has returned, somehow,”

“And he has gained immense power through one host, and one host alone,” North grabbed a comically thick book— _Children of the World,_ Vol89—from a shelf and plopped it on his desk, flipping through page after page, profile after profile, with lists of birthdays, days of first belief, and whether they were naughty or nice, until he stopped on one boy’s page. He seemed to be older than the usual target age group of their magicks; his birthday revealed he was twenty years old. The description was pitifully small, and that reflected on the other categories on the page.

“George Davidson, age 20, beliefs… zero,”

Every single one of them saw Dream immediately stiffen at these words. “Wh-what..?” North remained silent, but the quiet answered Dream’s question loudly enough. Dream reached up to adjust his mask nervously, before walking up to gaze at the boy’s profile over North’s shoulder (though he did have to make himself hover to do so). He was… cute, from as much as he could see from the black and white picture, and Dream was suddenly very thankful for his mask because his face heated up very rapidly, and boy, he would’ve never heard the end of it from Jack. “That’s impossible, how does he have no beliefs?” Dream sputtered, swiftly schooling away the rabid human thoughts and emotions that he hadn’t experienced in three thousand years, pulling himself back into the focus-lane. North only shrugged, clapping the book closed and sending a large cloud of dust into the air, causing Jack to float back a couple feet with a scowl at the collective dust. “I don’t know. When I first received message, I realized I didn’t recognize the boy, and I would assume you don’t either, Dream,” Dream nodded his head in confirmation. “Which is impossible. I meet every child at birth, how did this one slip through my grasp?”

“Shoddy workmanship, I’d say,”

Jack received multiple pillows to the face.

“For three thousand years, I’ve met each child at birth to give them their welcome into the world. For three thousand years I have done this. And for three thousand years, no child has slipped through my fingers like this,” Dream worried his lip between his teeth. “Something terrible must have happened for me to have missed him,” Heavy guilt laced his voice. “And he’s had to sit in darkness for twenty years…” Dream fell silent after that, bringing himself to the floor.

“We need to find him,” Bunny said. “Because he’s the only source of Pitch’s power,”

“We don’t need to find him, Dream does. A twenty-year-old man isn’t going to suddenly believe in Santa, or the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy, after twenty years of no belief. Dream is the only one who could get to him at this age,”

“Jack does have point,” North looked at each of them before finalizing his gaze on Dream, setting his hands on Dream’s shoulders. “You might be the only one capable of saving this boy. We can help with Pitch, but only you can destroy his grip on George,”

Dream remained silent, his gaze not meeting any of those in the room. The silence was deafening, none of them daring to speak despite being so desperate to. Glances were exchanged, though every gaze in the room was on the green cloaked Guardian. Dream shifted away from North, staring up at the globe, the glow of believers resembling twinkling stars.

“Is there an easy way to find him?” Tooth questioned quietly.

North shook his head. “No. Since he’s never believed, his location would have never appeared on the globe. We’ll have to find him the hard way…” He grabbed the thick book and placed it back on the shelf, emitting another small puff of dust.

“That won’t be necessary,” Dream turned to look at all of them. “I’ll be able to find him through the dream realm. Even if I’ve never visited him before, and despite the fact that he’s never experienced a pleasant dream, I’ll be able to find him. Nightmares are still dreams, and despite unruly and unwanted ones, they are connected to the dream realm. I just need him to be asleep, and I should be able to locate him since I know generally what he looks like, and because nightmares emit high sums of negative energy in the close proximity of the dreamer,” he looked at the book that North had set back on the shelf. “I still have no idea how I’ve never met him before, but that period of time ends now,”


End file.
